Of Nags and Trolls
by WildChipmunkofYonder
Summary: Marcus/Oliver. A series of post-Hogwarts ficlets. May be seen as a sequel/companion fic to my one-shot, "Of Jealousy".
1. Home

"Hello?" Oliver called as he walked in. "Marcus? You home?" He kicked the door shut behind him, wand levitating a bag of groceries as he scanned the sports section of the _Daily Prophet. _At the sound of a soft _meow_, he glanced down with a smile. "Hey Mortimer," he said to the purring feline twining between his legs. "Have you been fed yet?" Several more _meows_ and a rather pitiful look answered the question.

Shaking his head, Oliver walked towards the kitchen, only to find Marcus fast asleep on the couch. "Lazy sod…" Oliver muttered. He whacked Marcus with the paper before continuing on his way.

"What the hell, Ollie?" Marcus yawned, rubbing his abused forehead. "I was sleeping…"

"While the poor cat was starving to death," Oliver said, watching Mortimer attack his newly filled food dish with the strength of a Bludger. "And I expect you did the dishes like I asked this morning?" he continued.

"Umm…"

"That's what I thought."

"...whatever..._prat_."

"Bastard."

"Nag."

"Troll."

"I'll show you a bloody troll..."


	2. Tied

Marcus Flint was _not_ pleased with his current situation.

It had started out innocently enough. Marcus had just gotten home from another late Quidditch practice, tired and tense, and his lover had been more than happy to kiss the frown from his face before leading him to bed. Oliver had been perched naked atop Marcus's clothed hips, leaning forward to kiss him as he'd laid back and relaxed. When Oliver had gently held his arms above his head, he thought nothing of it, until a whispered spell had his arms tied to the headboard.

Thus, his current predicament.

"Oliver," Flint growled warningly. "Untie me. Now."

To Marcus's irritation, his lover only smiled.

"No, I don't think I will," Oliver said teasingly, trailing kisses down the trapped man's chest, before reaching for the lube they kept on the bedside table.

Marcus scowled harder. "I'm serious, Oliver. You know I don't like it when you fuck me like this."

Oliver grinned mischievously. Marcus was surprised when instead of reaching for him, Oliver trailed his lubed fingers down his own naked thighs sensually, before reaching behind himself.

"Whoever said _I_ would be fucking _you_?" he purred.

Marcus contemplated this.

"Right. Carry on then."


	3. Despair

"No no no no no no no!" Oliver cried in the greatest anguish he had ever known, trying his hardest to not let the tears in his eyes fall. "How could you do this to me? How could you hurt me like this? After everything we've been through together!" Oliver slammed his fist into the ground. "Y-you bastard! I'll get you for this! If it's the last thing I ever do, I'll kill you for doing this to me. I hate you!" He slumped onto his hands and knees. "Oh Merlin…" he sobbed, lost in his despair.

"Oliver, what the _hell_ are you screaming about now?"

Oliver whipped his head around to see Marcus standing in the doorway. In a flash, he was off the floor and gripping Marcus's shirt.

"Oh Marcus! Thank Merlin you're here!" he cried into his shoulder

"Hey," Marcus said in surprise, putting his arms around Oliver instinctively. He stroked the trembling man's back. "Calm down, Oliver. What's the matter?"

"I don't know what to do," Oliver moaned in distress. "The Canons are playing the Wasps in five minutes and the wireless won't work!" He glared at the radio sitting where he had left it on the floor, static the only sound coming from it.

The hand stroking Oliver stopped.

"_What?_"

Oliver nodded solemnly, unable to see Marcus's annoyed and exasperated face while his own was still buried in the other man's chest. "No matter what spells I use, it won't work! What am I going to do, Marcus? This is the most important match of the season! I can't miss it!"

"Bloody hell, Oliver," Marcus said, pushing the other man away. "A Quidditch match? I thought you were dying or something."

"You don't understand! I _will_ die if I don't know what happens! You have to help me!" Oliver looked at his lover pathetically.

Marcus sighed. "Fine. Let me take a look at it."

Oliver quickly retrieved the malfunctioning radio, gaze hopeful. Marcus uncertainly tapped it with his wand and, when that failed to do anything, he gave it a hard smack out of irritation.

Instantly, the sound of the Wizarding Wireless Network filled the room.

"_Oh thank you thank you thank you!" _Oliver cried in joy. He grabbed his lover's face and planted a searing kiss on his lips, before taking the radio into the other room to listen in peace.

Marcus stood dazedly, before swiftly following.

As soon as the match was over, Oliver had a _lot_ more thanking to do.


	4. Cold

"Merlin's balls!" Oliver yelled as two icy cold hands went up the front of his shirt. "What the fuck, Marcus?!"

"'m cold," was all he said, cuddling into Oliver's back.

"Yes, I gathered that from the two icicles you call hands currently giving my stomach frost bite," Oliver said, trying in vain to squirm away from the other man. Marcus made a soft noise in his throat and held on tighter, rubbing Oliver's stomach to try to get any bit of warmth he could. "Would you _stop?_" Oliver said, shivering at the cold touch.

"Nope," said Marcus, burying an equally cold nose into the other man's neck. Oliver squeaked.

"Well why not?"

Marcus shrugged. "You're warm." He dragged a slightly protesting Oliver over to the bed, laying him down on his side and curling around him from behind. "Much better," Marcus murmured, settling down for a nap.

Oliver sighed, rubbing the arms wrapped around him absentmindedly. "You _do_ realize I have a bunch of work to do, right?"

"Later," was all the other man said, and soon Oliver could feel Marcus's breath deepening in sleep.

Oliver sighed again, but didn't bother to hide the affectionate smile on his face. Cold hands weren't _so_ bad, he thought to himself.

But when Marcus snuck his icy hands down Oliver's _pants_ the next day, he smacked his lover across the head while retracting the thought.


	5. Friends

"Still a complete workaholic I see," Oliver said fondly.

Percy looked up from the documents he had been reading, a surprised and happy smile lighting his face.

"Oliver! Wonderful to see you!" he said, standing to clasp his friend's arm. "Please have a seat. Would you like something to drink? My treat."

"If that's the case…" Oliver chucked, taking the offered seat. He ordered a butterbeer when the waiter came, then turned back to Percy. "How are you? How are things at the Ministry?"

"I'm doing very well. Work is stressful, but fine. Penelope worries that I'll work myself to death, but I've stopped working overtime so often just to please her." Percy laughed softly. "It has, admittedly, been successful in reducing my migraines, so I suppose it was a fair bargain."

Oliver grinned slyly. "You and Penelope still together then? May I go so far as to predict a spring wedding?"

A slight flush colored Percy's cheeks, even as a huge smile broke across his face. "We were thinking in the fall, actually."

"You didn't!" Oliver gasped. Taking a closer look at his friend, Oliver grinned. "You _did!_"

Still flushed, but obviously very pleased, Percy said, "I just proposed last Sunday. _Obviously_, she said yes."

"Congratulations! Do your parents know?" Oliver asked, after sipping his recently arrived drink.

"Not yet. We're planning on announcing it at our dinner party next weekend." Percy blinked, then exclaimed, "Which reminds me! Did you receive our dinner invitation?"

Oliver frowned in thought. "I don't think so, but I could ask Marcus when I get home. He's horrible when it comes to the post."

"I assume you're still seeing each other, then."

Oliver shot Percy a searching look. "Yes, we are," he said slowly. He still vividly remembered the shouting match and subsequent weeks of silence that had occurred when he'd first let Percy know that he and Marcus were "not quite enemies anymore".

Percy had apologized and they had rebuilt their friendship, but Oliver would never forget those long, tense-filled weeks when they hadn't been speaking to each other.

Percy gave him a knowing look, before saying, soothingly, "Penelope was under the impression that she could introduce you to her brother…her Quidditch-loving, recently _single_ brother, that is." He shot Oliver an amused look. "I will have to inform her that that would _not _be such a wise idea."

Oliver laughed, shoulders relaxing. "Smart man. We don't want to ruin such a happy occasion with a vicious bloodbath, now do we?"

Percy laughed as well. "Certainly not!"

They chatted comfortably for a while longer before parting ways, Oliver thanking Percy for the drink and congratulating him again. When he and Marcus arrived at the dinner party several weeks later, Oliver was proud when Percy offered Marcus his hand in greeting, expression welcoming. Marcus took it without a smile, but he nodded his head congenially and made no attempts to crush the redhead's hand like he had in the past.

For Oliver, that was enough.


	6. Aftermath

"_Hey, I think I found someone here!"_

"_Another three dead counted on the grounds."_

"_COLIN!"_

"_I thought they evacuated all the underage!"_

"_No, Merlin, no! NO!"_

Oliver woke with a choked gasp, scrambling against the blankets trapping him. It took him a few moments to realize that it was not cloth holding him still, but a warm body gently pressing him to the mattress. It took a few moments after to register a husky, sleep-filled voice murmuring in his ear-

"…'m here, Ollie. I got you, right here, got you, Ollie. 'm right here…"

-and that there was a hand, rough with calluses, rubbing soothingly along his own, clenched in the sheets so tight that a sharp, throbbing pain was beginning to grow. Try as he might, though, Oliver could not get his fingers to release the fabric. He stared blankly at Marcus's hand over his own, a thumb tracing the angry, magic-ridden scars left by a curse that had ended Oliver's Quidditch career before it had truly begun.

"Marcus," Oliver croaked, fingers barely twitching and sending the pain from mild to excruciating. "_Marcus_."

Marcus hummed and shifted to cover the other man more thoroughly, before saying, "What do you need, Ollie?"

Oliver twitched his fingers again and gasped at the sharp jolt up his arm, the rest of his body shuddering against the assault. Marcus felt it all along his front, and switched his light, tracing movements to a gentle massage, before very slowly prying Oliver's fingers loose from their tense fist. He continued to press his fingers deep into the muscle, slowly settling the spasms that had taken hold. "Need the potion?" Marcus breathed, face buried in the back Oliver's neck.

Oliver paused before barely shaking his head. Marcus continued rubbing Oliver's hand, while his other went to pull the blankets back over them. It wasn't until that moment that Oliver noticed his own shivering, and he shifted to allow Marcus to wrap himself around him completely, relishing the heat of human contact after such panic. He felt Marcus sigh gently, before pressing his lips into the nape of Oliver's neck. Oliver forced his fingers to flex, trailing against his lover's in reassurance and thanks.

They dozed until the early morning, then got up to go about the rest of their day as normal. And if Marcus pressed a little closer, kissed a bit more firmly, and held him just a bit tighter, neither of them acknowledged it.


End file.
